


Super...Baby?

by LilLayneeLoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mpreg, OTP Feels, Pregnant Bruce Wayne, temporary powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo
Summary: Bruce suddenly has the same superpowers as Clark, and he's determined to find out why.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 432





	Super...Baby?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been enjoying my other mpreg fic, so I decided to try out another one shot. I hope you enjoy!

The first time that Bruce noticed anything was wrong, he was at a gala.

He hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place, so his patience was already wearing thin, even before Mr. Vandergilt approached him to try and convince him to run for mayor... _ again. _

“Oh no, sir,” Bruce was chuckling falsely as he explained for the fifth time that evening: “I’m really far too busy to run for office, though I’m flattered you find me a suitable candidate.”

The glass of whiskey in his hand was running low, and as Vandergilt launched  _ back _ into all of the reasons running would be  _ beneficial _ , he tipped it back and finished it off. Smiling politely, he nodded along to the man’s babbling, glancing occasionally at his watch and hoping that time would somehow miraculously begin to pick up speed.

When Prescott Belmont approached the conversation and began discussing why  _ he  _ should run for mayor instead, Bruce had had enough. He tried to smile politely, but his fists clenched involuntarily. 

Normally, this would have gone without notice, but much to Bruce’s surprise, the empty glass in his hand  _ shattered _ , scattering shards over the velvety blue carpet around his feet and piercing his skin in several places.

Bruce stared down at the glass in shock. He was a strong man but, based on the size and sturdiness of the glass, he should not have been able to crush it so easily.

“Woah,” Bruce laughed, aware of the confusion written all over the other men’s faces. “It must’ve had a chip, or I don’t know my own strength!”

Vandergilt and Belmont shot him disapproving and disgusted looks as he pulled pieces of glass out of his palm. The extraction of a particularly large shard sent several drops of blood cascading down his hand.

“Oh dear,” Bruce said, dramatically. “Do you think I should have this looked at?”

He played dumb, thrusting his bloodied hand out toward Mr. Vandergilt, who cringed and shooed him away.

“Yes,” Belmont said, wincing as well. “That’s disgusting, Wayne.”

Bruce feigned offense, then slinked away from the conversation, removing his tie and pressing the fabric to his bleeding hand.Though he was relieved that he had an excuse to leave the gala early, he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. The glass was  _ not _ cracked or chipped--he had spent enough time staring down into it that evening to know that for certain--so Bruce had no explanation for its sudden shattering.

Alfred had reassured him that he had most likely simply grossly underestimated his own strength, or overestimated the thickness of the glass. He was adamant that it wasn’t something to be overly concerned about, and reprimanded him for laughing when he recounted shoving his blood in Vandergilt’s face. Once Alfred had stitched him, he was instructed to get some sleep.

To his credit, Bruce tried, but sleep would not come. He tossed and turned, the stinging in his hand constantly reminding him that something inexplicably strange had happened. Eventually, he grew too impatient to stay in bed, and decided to investigate his situation further.

\-----

“So, Alfred,” Bruce said, walking into the kitchen and bypassing the usual ‘good morning’ he offered his butler. “I’m strong. Like  _ too  _ strong. Like  _ Clark _ strong.”

Alfred said nothing, simply raising one eyebrow. In the past, Alfred had been privy to conversations with a drunken Bruce which, given his competitive nature, had often involved a few stretches of the truth.

Bruce sighed and walked to the cupboard. The look on Alfred’s face was a clear indication that he was sure this was another one of those situations. He grabbed a plate, held it up to Alfred, and cracked it in half. 

Alfred continued to look skeptically at him, so Bruce grabbed a butter knife from one of the drawers and bent it in half as well.

“Master Bruce, are you going to continue bending and breaking your housewares for no reason?” Alfred asked, still unphased.

Bruce groaned, exasperated. Then he held up a hand and retreated from the room. Moments later, he returned with a thick crowbar. He handed it to Alfred.

“That’s 12 inches long and 1 inch thick,” he said. “You can feel it right? The weight? Try to bend it.”

Alfred looked disapprovingly at Bruce, but pulled at the ends with all of his might. His face turned slightly red before he relaxed.

“I cannot, Master Bruce,” he said. “It is firm and sturdy.”

Bruce reached for the bar, and Alfred handed it to him. As soon as it was in his hands, Bruce bent it completely in half, twisting one end around the other with perfect ease. He handed it back to Alfred.

“Now do you believe me?” He asked. Alfred was watching him, curiosity dawning on the man’s face.

“Master Bruce…?”

“I don’t know, Alfred,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “But that’s why the glass broke last night. I clenched my fists and it just  _ shattered _ . I know I’m strong, but like I said, I’m not  _ that _ strong. A normal person should not be able to do that.”

Alfred looked inquisitive.

“Have you experienced anything else abnormal, Master Bruce?”

“No,” Bruce answered. “Not that I can think of, although now I’ll be monitoring myself regularly, and after my conference this morning, I’ll be running some tests downstairs. I’d appreciate your assistance if you would be willing.”

“Of course, Master Bruce. Have you told Master Clark?”

“Not yet,” Bruce responded, thinking of his long-term boyfriend. “I’m not sure I’m ready, because he will be overly concerned. I’d like to see if I can figure it out first.”

“Very well,” Alfred responded. “I will ready the car.”

\-----

The second time Bruce noticed something was off, he was in his office at Wayne Tech.

It had been two weeks since he and Alfred had run tests and found nothing else unusual. Bruce had done his best to hide his new abilities from the team, acting no more aggressively than he normally would have, and remaining within the physical limits of Batman. It had worked, nobody had noticed, thus far, that anything was different.

Bruce was taking part in a four-way telephone call with Lucius Fox and two representatives for the company’s most recent potential partners. They had already gone over the primary logistics of their impending deal, so he was forced to sit and listen as Lucius discussed the financial aspect. Money was not something he often concerned himself with, and Lucius was well aware of this, so Bruce was in a position that invited distraction and inner conflict. 

He found himself replaying the events of the last two weeks--each time that his newly acquired super strength had inadvertently caused damage to something or other; fortunately, it had not yet been another person, just office supplies and things around the manor.

He felt guilty because he still hadn’t told Clark, but it was true that Clark would only worry about him. Something was clearly going on, but it wasn’t anything that had proved to be  _ harmful _ , thus far at least.

He was deep in thought when suddenly he smelled something  _ off _ in the room. He forced his eyes to come back into focus, and realized that there were large black scorch marks on the far wall of his office.

Bruce froze for a moment, staring at the burnt plaster. Then, he cautiously shifted his gaze to another bare spot on the wall and focused on it. He felt it this time; something like a twitch in the corner of his eye, and scorch marks appeared in the new spot.

Bruce narrowed his eyes and continued to focus. Suddenly, his vision went blurry for a moment and then adjusted to a strange reddish orange glow.

“ _ Holy shit!”  _ Bruce yelled, jumping out of his desk chair. 

Lucius awkwardly cleared his throat, and Bruce realized his cursing had been heard by the representatives as well.

“My...my apologies,” Bruce stuttered, staring worriedly at the walls where he had burned the plaster with his... _ laser vision? _ “I was...startled by something. I’m afraid I just realized I have to go, Lucius. David, Xavier, it was a pleasure to speak with you. I hope we can continue to work together moving forward. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Bruce cut off Lucius’ protest as he disconnected the line. He sent Alfred a text informing him he would be returning home early and asking him to prepare the lab in the cave to run more tests.

\-----

After the third time an inexplicable power made its appearance, Bruce finally pieced together what was happening to him.

They had spent that entire night in the cave trying to explain the  _ laser beams he could now shoot out of his eyes _ , and yet neither Bruce nor Alfred had any idea what was causing his sudden powers, beyond the observation that the powers  _ matched Clark’s _ .

Alfred theorized that perhaps it had something to do with Bruce spending so much time with Clark, however Bruce pointed out that Martha and Jonathan had raised him without being affected. He didn’t have any better ideas, though, so he once again tucked it to the back of his

mind.

Two more weeks passed, marking approximately a month since the night he shattered the whiskey glass.

The third incident was much less eventful and worrisome. He had been in the manor, sharing a coffee with Alfred and Clark with the intention of moving the conversation in the direction of his mysterious powers. At that point, he had waited four weeks without telling his partner about his situation, and felt that Clark deserved to know. In fact, he was curious to see if he would have any suggestions of his own, seeing that the two powers he had developed mirrored Clark’s perfectly.

The coffee had been freshly brewed, so when Bruce drew the cup to his lips the first time, it was incredibly hot. Mid sentence, he blew softly on the liquid and watched as the cup and coffee froze in his hand. 

Clark, unfortunately, had been mid sip when it happened. He spat coffee all over the table when he saw the mug was frozen to Bruce’s hands.

“ _ What the hell?!” _ He gasped, setting down his mug and looking at Bruce. “What just happened?”

“I was going to bring this up,” Bruce said, breaking his hands away from the ice now encasing his grasp. “I’ve been trying to determine how to tell you. It seems that I’ve suddenly acquired powers.  _ Your  _ powers. Just in the last month.”

“You’ve known for a month?” Clark said, his brow furrowing. “And you didn’t think to maybe mention it to me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you if it was not necessary,” Bruce sighed. “It started with strength--I didn’t drop the glass that cut me, I crushed it. Then it was laser vision; I accidentally scorched the wall in my office. Now it’s this.” He gestured to the mug.

Clark stared at him with the same look Alfred had first given him. Bruce sighed and brought his elbow up to the table.

“Don’t believe me?” he challenged Clark. “Try me.”

Clark grasped Bruce’s hand in his own and counted down from three. They pressed against each other, and though Clark ultimately won, Bruce undoubtedly put up a hell of a lot more of a fight than he would have under normal circumstances.

“Shall I scorch something too?” Bruce asked. Clark shook his head.

“This makes no sense, Bruce,” Clark said. “Any idea why it’s happening?”

“No,” Bruce said, laying his hands flat on the table. “I’ve been monitoring myself more closely, given the situation, and I’ve noticed a few other symptoms, but they don’t seem to be connected, at least not in a way that explains why it’s happening. They’re all just kind of normal for a human being.”

“What are they?” Clark asked, still frowning.“They could mean something, even if it’s not obvious.”

Bruce sighed. He had known Clark would worry.

“I’ve been out of breath more frequently,” Bruce explained. “But that wouldn’t be related to this because your powers should only improve my endurance.”

Clark nodded.

“I’ve been finding certain smells absolutely atrocious,” Bruce continued. “So I’m wondering if I’m also adopting your enhanced senses as well. Some smells just make me want to vomit.”

“I do have heightened smell, but I’ve never felt like vomiting,” Clark said. “There might be something to that, although it could also just be that you’re not used to experiencing them at such an intense level...”

“I’ve been more sore than usual too,” Bruce said. “My back and my ankles; but I think that can be attributed more so to my age than to whatever this is. Let’s see, and I…” Bruce paused, something like fear and realization flashing through his eyes. “I…”

“Bruce?” Clark asked. “You what?”

“Would you and Alfred give me a few minutes?” He asked, pushing away from the table. “I have a theory, but I want to check it before I tell you.”

Clark’s brow furrowed again.

“Bruce,” he said. “I can help you, just…”

“Please,” Bruce said. “I promise I’ll tell you everything when I’m done, but I need to do this first. I honestly think it’s better this way.”

Clark and Alfred shared a skeptical look, then both nodded. Bruce swept out of the room and down into the cave.

_ Breathlessness, fatigue, nausea, soreness, and...weight gain, _ Bruce thought, running his symptoms over in his head.  _ And I’ve suddenly and miraculously gained Kryptonian powers… _

It seemed so obvious now that it had occurred to Bruce. He made quick work of extracting three small vials of his own blood; he was grateful he had not yet adopted Clark’s imperviousness to needles.

There were more efficient ways of conducting the test, but Bruce wanted to be certain. He placed the vials on the bench and obtained three separate dip-strips designed to detect hCG in the male bloodstream. 

Originally Bruce had acquired them to run his own tests for testicular cancer; he had never anticipated they would be useful for anything else. 

He dropped one dip strip into each vial, glancing at the clock. He had to wait ten minutes for the official results, but he was already almost certain he was correct.

Bruce walked across the lab toward where he kept the batsuit. There was a mirror on the wall nearby, which he frequently used to assess difficult-to-reach wounds on his own body. This time he approached it and turned sideways, lifting his shirt and staring at the curvature of his middle.

_ This is crazy _ , Bruce thought as he gently, almost tenderly, ran a hand over the swell in his skin.  _ This is absolutely crazy _ .

What would Clark say when he found out? Bruce had never really anticipated having  _ biological _ children, but given his past, refused to even consider terminating or abandoning his baby. Clark had never really talked about kids, so Bruce wasn’t really sure what he would think.

The full ten minutes passed as Bruce stared at his reflection. His heart was pounding when he dropped his shirt and walked back toward the lab. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He already knew the answer. Everything fit, and he was already showing.

Bruce stood unmoving at the lab desk, both hands planted firmly on the cool metal. He stared down at the red strip, unsurprised and yet still slightly disbelieving of what he was seeing. 

He pulled himself out of his stupor after a few moments, shaking his head and dropping a hand to his abdomen. He took all three of the strips, each a similar shade of red, and compared them to the reference guide. A quick search told him that, according to the levels of hCG in his blood (and given the timeline in terms of his and Clark’s sex life), he was likely around fifteen weeks, or just under four months pregnant.

He kept his hand pressed against his abdomen as he began to ascend back to the main floor, taking deep breaths and contemplating how to tell Clark and Alfred. He was about half way up when lights began flashing in the cave, an alert coming through on the main computer.

It was a message from Diana, explaining that Amazo had been spotted in Gotham’s East End, and that though the rest of the league was on it, they would likely need backup from Batman and Superman.

Clark came bounding down the stairs shortly after Bruce had received the message, already stripped of his civilian identity.

“Go,” Bruce said to him, pulling the suit out of its case. “Fly, I’ll drive and meet you there.”

“Bruce,” Clark said. “Are you sure you-”

“I figured it out,” Bruce said. “And I’m totally fine, but I don’t have time to explain. Later. Go.”

Clark frowned, but then nodded and flew out the back of the cave.

Bruce caught another glimpse of himself shirtless before donning the batsuit, and questioned again how he hadn’t really noticed the small but definitive bump protruding from his stomach. His armor had been getting tighter and he had intended on working out more in an attempt to reverse it, but given the appearance of his powers, he had become rather distracted. 

Bruce swallowed thickly and pulled his armor over his body, strapping himself into the cape and suit and wrapping his slightly loosened belt around his waist. He pulled on his boots and jumped into the batmobile which roared to life.

Clark had Amazo’s eyes covered by the time Bruce arrived. John was down and Diana was tending to him, a deep laceration in his side presumably from Amazo’s version of Shayera’s mace. J’onn and Clark were engaged in hand to hand combat with the copycat, and Bruce watched with a pained expression as Clark was hurled into a neighboring building, the concrete crushed and crumbling onto him.

He forced himself to refrain from running to Clark’s aid, knowing full well that his boyfriend could handle himself. Instead, he focused on figuring out how to get in a few hits of his own. 

Batman had an advantage when it came to Amazo; his complete lack of supernatural abilities meaning that he was the only one who had a chance at the upper hand against him. Bruce forgot about his most recent symptoms when he swung down to greet Amazo, who was in the process of unwrapping the metal strip from around his eyes.

Bruce interrupted this, hitting him with a batarang that promptly exploded. It proved futile, however, as Amazo successfully removed Clark’s cover and got a good look at Bruce, the weapon having done no damage.

“Superman,” Bruce said into the comlink. “Stay away from here. He’s removed the cover.”

“Batman,” Clark said in return. “Do you think Amazo will…”

“I don’t know,” Bruce muttered, honestly. “I hadn’t really thought of that. Add incompetence to the list of symptoms.”

“ _ Be careful _ ,” Clark pleaded. “I’m nearby, but out of Amazo’s sight. I can see you both, but hopefully he can’t see me.” 

“I am out of sight as well,” Diana joined in. “Hawkgirl has taken Lantern back to the Watchtower to stitch his wound. J’onn is with me.”

“I’m near too,” Wally said. “He’s all yours, Bats. Let us know if you want back up. But what do you mean by ‘list of symptoms’?”

“Not now, Flash,” Clark replied for Bruce, who had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Batman!” Amazo boomed, stepping closer to him. “We meet again. Weak, powerless human. Your friends have left you here to be destroyed by me.”

Bruce stepped forward and attacked again, launching more explosives as a distraction. Through the smoke, Bruce was able to get close enough to hit Amazo with a sickening punch. 

Amazo went flying backwards, slamming into a car and toppling to the ground. Bruce heard Diana, Wally, and J’onn gasping and muttering over the comlinks.

Amazo stood clumsily, and walked back toward Bruce. 

“What is this?” He asked, staring at Bruce. Bruce could tell he was analyzing him, having realized the extent of Batman’s acquired strength.

Bruce remembered the Kryptonite in his belt, and the reaction Amazo had had to it the last time they met. The robot would be expecting it as an offensive move had he copied  _ Superman’s _ powers, but Bruce was certain he would not be prepared if the power came from him instead.

There was no way for Amazo to know that the powers he was presently copying from Bruce were actually born of the half-Kryptonian child he was carrying.

Bruce put a hand on the pocket of the belt where the Kryptonite was, protected by a lead lining. He was grateful for the lead lining of his suit as well, which would protect his child from the weapon he was about to use on Amazo.

“I’m not a weak, powerless human this time,” Bruce growled. “Go ahead. Copy me.”

Amazo continued to stare at him in confusion for a moment or two, then shifted his gaze and scanned Bruce’s body. Bruce watched as Amazo’s sculpted body shifted to adapt to his powers. When the transition was complete, Bruce’s cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and dread for the inevitable conversations to come.

Nothing was immediately visible in terms of the robot’s new strength, heat vision, and cold breath; but it’s source was definitely reflected in Amazo’s body. A noticeable baby bump protruded from Amazo’s abdomen, the same size and approximate shape of Bruce’s hidden one.

Bruce cringed as he heard more gasping over the comlink, this time Clark and Shayera’s mixed in as well. However, he ignored them, ripping the device from his ear and throwing it to the ground. Bruce wasted no time retrieving the Kryptonite from his belt and lunging toward Amazo, who was confused and momentarily distracted by the sudden change in his body.

“You adopt our powers, you adopt it all,” Bruce growled, reiterating what he had said the first time they fought. He plunged the thick chunk of glowing rock into Amazo’s chest, shredding the metal exterior and driving it through Amazo’s inner wiring. “Including our weaknesses.”

The robot’s body shook and shuddered until he finally collapsed, his powers and the baby bump melting away from his figure. Bruce stood staring at the body, so intensely that he did not notice as the other members of the team slowly retreated from their hiding spots and came to join him.

Clark reached him first, pulling him out of his stupor and lifting him into the air. He spun Bruce around, then set him down again and crushed him into a deep hug. 

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” He whispered in Bruce’s ear. Bruce couldn’t see his partner’s face, but he could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes,” Bruce whispered back. “I had been so focused on the strength and the vision that I didn’t even notice that I have a  _ fucking _ baby bump. I knew I was gaining weight, but I didn’t know why.”

“You’re beautiful,” Clark whispered, pulling Bruce impossibly closer. “So beautiful, Bruce.”

“So, you’re not angry?” Bruce asked, pulling away from Clark. “You want to have a baby with me?”

“Angry?” Clark asked. “ _ Not in the slightest. _ I’m thrilled, Bruce. This is amazing news. I love you so much.”

Before Bruce could say anything else, Clark had wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist and hoisted him into the air again, pressing his lips firmly against his partner’s and smiling into the kiss.

He set Bruce down again, his hand lowering casually to the armor that covered Bruce’s abdomen.

All at once, Bruce realized that Barry, Diana, and J’onn were standing behind them, and likely wanted to know what was going on.

“Can we go up to the Watchtower?” Clark said, looking first to a blushing Bruce and then to the rest of the league. “We have some explaining to do, and it would be easier if John and Shayera were here too.”

They hadn’t told anyone they were dating in the first place, despite the fact that it had been years. Now they not only had to explain that, but also why their evolving robotic enemy had spontaneously grown a baby bump that supplied him with Clark’s powers.

“So…” Bruce said, once they were settled in the med bay. John’s ribs were wrapped, and Shayera was standing next to him.

“You probably thought you two were stealthy and sneaky, Batman, but you really weren’t,” Shayera said, hoisting herself up onto an empty cot. “It’s about time you just admitted it, especially since John and I did a long time ago.”

“Admitted what?” Wally said. “I’m honestly so confused, right now. So much has happened in the last half an hour that I really don’t understand.”

“Instead of us just launching into an unnecessarily long story, why don’t you guys ask us any questions you might have?” Clark suggested, wrapping his arm around Bruce. 

Bruce nodded. Diana was the first to speak.

“How long have you been together?” She asked, smiling gently.

“Almost eight years, now,” Clark said. “We’ve known each other for almost ten.”

“Wait, together?” Wally asked, clueless. “You kissed… so you guys are...?”

“Why else would they kiss, Flash,” Shayera said, shaking her head. “I thought you were some sort of expert on love.”

“Well…” Wally said, blushing and rubbing at his neck. “Hm. I never would have guessed that Bats would settle down.

“Well, we never bothered getting married,” Bruce said. “Unnecessary formality, but we’ve pretty much lived together for over five years, at least when our day jobs allowed it, and now…”

He caught J’onn’s eye who smiled warmly at him.

“Congratulations,” the martian said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “You’re going to be wonderful parents.”

“Woah… parents?” Wally said. “You’re adopting?”

“Flash, were you paying attention at all?” Diana snapped at him. “Didn’t you see that as soon as Amazo scanned Bruce’s body, he literally grew a baby bump?”

“Bats is...pregnant?” Wally stuttered, staring blankly at Clark and Bruce.

“Yes,” Clark said. “And apparently the baby’s powers have transferred to him. That’s how he sent Amazo flying like he did.”

“But the Kryptonite…” Wally said. “How come it didn’t hurt you?”

“My suit is lined with lead,” Bruce said. “It has been for a while. That way I can shield Clark from it any time it’s necessary, and no other Kryptonian can see my face, like Zod, Mala, and Jax Ur have tried.”

“This is so...weird!” Wally said, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t believe this.”

“I sure can,” John said, rubbing at his bandages. “What I can’t believe is that you really had no idea.”

“Were we really that obvious?” Clark said, smirking. “I thought we did pretty good. Considering that we hardly interact with you guys outside of the league, we figured as long as we kept the PDA to a minimum, you’d never know.”

“Oh no,” Diana said, stepping forward to hug Clark. “We definitely knew. Congratulations to you two. I’m very happy for you.”

“We all are,” J’onn said. “I was most likely the first to be aware of your affection for each other, given the fact that I can sense the devotion and tenderness you radiate in each others’ presence. Your child is lucky. It will be born to two parents who love each other very much.”

“He’s right,” Clark said, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s temple. “I do love you very much.”

“I love you too,” Bruce said. “Where do we go from here?”

“We’ll help you,” Diana said, smiling. 

“Yeah,” John said, squeezing Shayera’s hand. 

Clark and Bruce looked affectionately at their teammates. Bruce reached around and unclasped his armor, letting it fall and revealing his baby bump beneath his tight black undershirt. Wally made a noise.

“You look cute, Bats,” he said. “In a slightly terrifying and unexpected way. I’ll help too, but only if you name the kid after me.”

Bruce scoffed, resting his hand on his abdomen.

“Not a chance, West,” he said. “Not. A. Chance.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is very much appreciated! Thanks for stopping by!


End file.
